Kitten
by BeTrueToThyself
Summary: Iggy makes blindness seem effortless, but sometimes it shows – like when Nudge and Angel adopt a stray kitten without telling anyone. Fluffy one-shot.


**A/N:** My dog is blind, and he does stuff like this all the time, because we keep forgetting. D: It made me wonder how it would be like for Iggy, so . . . here 'tis.

**Kitten**

I was upstairs in Nudge and Angel's bedroom when I heard the sudden cry and loud clatter from the first floor. A bleary-eyed, sleepy Angel, who'd been placidly watching the daily, tedious spectacle of Nudge-waking, began to giggle nervously. I turned halfway round to give her an odd look, but she was looking past me at an abruptly guilty Nudge.

That had been Iggy's voice crying out – and which now had dissolved into what may have been cursing; thankfully, all but the tone was lost drifting up the stairs. (Note to self: remind Iggy not swear in front of little ears.)

Moments after the first loud thump, I was already hurrying down to the source of the commotion, Nudge and Angel trailing behind. Following Gazzy's and Fang's voices into the kitchen, I halted in the doorway at the odd sight. Iggy sat slumped against the black oven door, holding his head with one hand and scrunching his pale eyes closed. A small bowl lay scattered in pieces at his bare feet, milk splattered all over.

But the most strange sight cowered in the far corner of the kitchen, fur puffed up all over its tiny kitten body.

". . . the world **was** that?" Iggy was in the middle of demanding, pushing angrily away from the oven door and then wobbling to his feet, one hand still cradling the back of his head.

"Are you all right, Iggy?" Gazzy asked nervously.

Iggy shrugged, face pinched in pained irritation, saying resentfully, "I'll live. Mostly I'd just _really_ like to know why _someone _left a bowl on the floor. Someone who, oh, I don't know, maybe doesn't like it when I cook and would rather have Max do it?"

I raised an eyebrow. This was no time to be ragging on my cooking skills! But I'll let it slide, considering that bump on the back of his head – that thing had to be painful. A pained, embarrassed-of-messing-up-because-of-his-blindness Iggy wasn't ever very amiable, and it's hard to blame him. Instead, I got to the point. "I'd like to know what happened, too," I stated in a deceivingly neutral tone, arms folded. "Nudge."

"Y-yes?" she asked hesitantly from behind me.

"Is that a kitten?" I demanded, staring at said cowering creature in the corner.

I heard her shuffle her feet before murmuring, "Yeah."

"A kitten?" Iggy broke in angrily over Nudge's murmur. "Since when do we have one of those?" He whirled unerringly toward the corner the kitten was in, taking a decisive stride toward it. (How he knew the silent, quivering thing was over there, I'll never figure out.)

"Wait!" Fang called out, snatching Iggy's arm. "Sharp, broken bowl, remember? Bare feet?"

Iggy grimaced. "Oh, yes. The sharp stinging pain makes it a bit difficult to forget."

I could practically feel Nudge and Angel wince at that from behind me. Nudge squeezed past me on my right, hovering uncertainly by Iggy, unsure and dejected. "I'm sorry," she finally murmured. "I just forgot."

The tall, pale boy sighed, his anger visibly dropping away from his posture. "It's okay, Nudge. 'S not the first time, and it probably won't be the last." He briefly rested a hand on her shoulder.

At some point during all this, Angel had slipped past all of us and swept up the kitten, clutching it tightly to her chest. As she came back over to us where we congregated in the doorway, she squeezed the poor thing tighter, forcing a squeak out of it. We looked as one toward the sound. Two pairs of large dew eyes blinked up at us.

"Don't blame Nudge too much, Max, Iggy," she said. "It was my idea, too. We couldn't just leave it outside! It was all shivering and wet and sad."

I sighed. I could understand how she wouldn't want to let a defenseless kitten fend for itself – not when we all were intimately acquainted with the experience. Still, logic reigned. "But Angel, we already have Total. We can't afford to carry along a kitten, too. We can barely feed ourselves as it is."

If possible, Angel's eyes grew even wider and wetter, pleading with the power of adorableness. I turned to Fang in some desperation, but he, too, was slain. He met my eyes with a helpless expression and a shrug.

"But what about Iggy?" Gazzy asked, looking from Fang to me and back again.

After a heavy, resigned breath, Iggy said, "No, it's all right, Gazzy. We'll just have to hang a bell around its stupid neck or something."

The younger boy brightened. "That's a great idea! I'm gonna go find one." Eager to help his partner in crime, he dashed past me, on the hunt for said elusive bell. I guess he'll figure out eventually that he'll need a collar to go along with it, neither of which I doubt he'll find. (Note to self: next time, don't linger in the doorway. Other people will push past you to get through it.)

Fang directed, "No more leaving bowls of milk where Iggy can trip on them, all right guys?"

Their faces lit up brighter than New York City on the first of the year. "Then do we get to keep it?"

"Hey, wait!" I exclaimed. "I never said that!"

"But Max!" Nudge and Angel chorused. They turned wet eyes to me. The cat, as though in on their scheme, promptly followed suit. Now, I know you'll blame me for giving in, but did you hear what I just said? That's _six _eyes, as in _three_ simultaneous looks of heart-breaking longing, like they'd just die of sorrow if I didn't say yes – and that right after a previous session.

Oh, I was so doomed. What would I do if I ever had kids of my own? Rolling my eyes, I grumbled, "Oh, all right, fine."

"Hooray!"

And that was how a kitten joined our ever-expanding flock.


End file.
